F 142 
.C2 B2 
copy 2 




IM 



J 



'i**'«^6-«a<eAsw^«-a'»j», 



ii -^."'TBiCBU-..;. 





-^^^ 







Class. 



^f>^ 



CAPE MAY 



TO 



ATLANTIC CITY 



A SUMMER NOTE BOOI- 



Passenger Department 
PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD COMPANY 

i88 



o 



T 



Cz\ 



1-4' 






I 
Copyright, 1SS3, bv 

J. R. WOOD, General Passenger Agent 

Pennsylvania Railroad. 



Tress of Allen, Lane & Scott, Philadelphia. 



^.•■':?- 







THE perplexities tiiat beset the summer wanderer in his yearly 
pilgrimage to the sea have given rise to this little book, 
in an attempt by the Pennsylvania Railroad Company to 
clear the mists from the summer thoroughfare. Where 
to go, and how, are questions of deeper significance than are 
usual to tea-table chat, requiring often much time and correspond- 
ence to properly answer. From the chance experience of a friend 
or a floating paragraph in the newspaper comes the suggestion; 
the deliberate courses of the mails produce at a later date the 
necessary coastwise literature ; queer little books with queer 
illustrations of a wonderful place, where all its marked features 
are crowded into one street ; where people walk and drive within 
six inches of great breakers ; and where the hotel at which you 
think of obtaining rooms is higher, larger, grander than any other 



VI 



hotel on the Atlantic seaboard. The truth of the place when told 
to the traveler upon his arrival is generally quite disagreeable, — 
rather harsh, in fact, — as though in that locality 

The thread of life was spun 
Of black and dismal wool. 

In the few pages to follow, the reader will find neither false- 
hood of pen nor pencil. Facts only have been collated, served 
simply in order that the summer wanderer might not be confused 
in his opportunities, and made to think that he was en route for 
Paradise at last. The attractiveness of the places described has 
been attempted only in the nature of hints ; the prices furnished, 
rates of fare, distances, and similar statements are taken from 
official sources. 

This fidelity to the reader's real interests will make his stay 
by the sea pleasanter than if he had been promised more than 
the land affords. And in a concise form he will find answered 
the questions, how to get there, hcnv to go when the time comes ; 
when the dust and heat of the city, the unclouded suns and red 
moons, the hot winds of morning, noon, and night, prompt a 
longing to shuffle off time and its concerns, — to forget who is 
president and who is governor, what race he belongs to, what 
language he speaks, — and to listen to "the great liquid metronome 
as it beats its solemn measure, steadily swinging when the solo or 
duet of human life began, and to swing just as steadily after the 
human chorus has died out, and man is a fossil on its shores." 



The Invitation. 





'.^y^ HE Atlantic from Sandy Hook to Cape May 
beats upon a coast full of changing beauty. 
The long, quiet reaches of the southern 
the New Jersey shore, broad 
-ays of hard sand, seem ever 
complacent in the sunlight ; 
which glitters upon the shin- 
ing pebbles and small sea- 
shells, and streams full upon 
undulating sand-dunes. As 
pass northward, the beaches 
are more and more pro- 
nounced in contrast against 
the sand-hills, marked here 
and there by rugged, ragged, 
unfriendly sand cedars, — those 
knarled and twisted trees that 
refuse to be civilized, and die rather 
^ u^ r- than live in the care of man. The 

sand-dunes become sand-hills, and finally along 
the northern half of the coast are lost in bluffs, against 
which the sea beats with ever-increasing appetite— 
as if it grew by what it fed upon. 

Boldly upon these bluffs and beaches of Nova Ca^- 
sarea, named after Caesarea, the present Jersey of the 



British Channel, stand the summer cities. Not that in winter they are 
deserted, given up to gulls and coast guards, but that the few who 
live on the Jersey coast the year through disappear with the first signs 
of warm weather ; they blow away like last summer's leaves, and are 
everywhere overwhelmed in the new summer growth. They are 
dominant only during the darker lialf of the year. They are people 
of storms and gales. Silently they give way, vacate their homes, 
retire to humble dwellings, become absorbed in the army of summer 
servants, and are lost ; to re-appear as the society of the coast, its true 
owners, only when the last exotic has faded, when the army of wait- 
ers and chambermaids is in full retreat, when the doors of the pretty 
cottages are barred, the curtains drawn, and the gulls and the coast 
guards come again. And what a delightful society the winter society 
is ! Quite all the French officer found it at one of his foreign stations, 
when he said, "The good society was like the good society in any 
other place, but the bad society was delightful !" 

The invaders, whose advance guards reach the coast by May-day, 
work a great transformation. The summer cities are invested with 
life, light, and color. Everything is in motion ; everywhere is ani- 
mation, youth, and beauty ; flowers, music, laughter, are the rule. 
The great hotels are crowded with people from all over — a thou- 
sand beneath a single roof; the sidewalks, the summer arbors, the 
long piers jutting out into tlie sea, are covered with fugitives from 
the inland towns. They are chatting, reading, smoking, lounging, 
strolling, riding about, bathing, sleeping, and eating, with no cares 
but for the shadow-side of the porch, and the sound of the dinner 
gong, if one there be. And just over the crest of the farthest sand- 
dune is the city of the children : a great city on the beach, with a 
big boy for mayor, and a common council made up from a lot of 
ruddy-faced revelers, each one of whom is busy with reforms among 
the sand-lots. Here is Utopia. Here, the education of the winds 
and the sun is free to both sexes alike. There is no aristocracy, save 
that of ability ; no tyranny, unless it be the tyranny of talent. Every 
member of the community is a worker — a contributor to the general 
w^elfare. The local pride is strong, and unites for local advancement. 
The city is full of picturesqueness ; there are no straight streets to 
horrify some itinerant Ruskin ; they are as crooked and uncertain as 



the thoroughfares of Nuremburg ; and 
the houses are as unequal and as 
toppHng. There are many statues to 
heroes ; there are fountains and wells. 
There are open-air theatres, as in 
Oberammergau or Moscow; there 
are bridges with towers, as in Prague 
and Turin ; there are cathedrals with 
white, shell-like-domes, as in Cologne 
and IVIilan. And the inhabitants are 
very merry, having nothing to fear 
but flood-tide ; sleeping as honest 
toilers only can ; knowing that to- 
morrow's sun shall find no trace of 
to-day's misdoings. They will be 
obliterated, and the friendly Atlantic 
will make everything smooth again. 

The days grow hotter inland; the 
dust of July begins to settle in the 
streets of the great cities ; the nights 
become more and more insufferable. 




Here on the coast the breezes are more even-tempered ; the sea 
seems more blue ; there is a greater charm than before. Morpheus 
is now one of the resident guests. The attraction of the sea-shore 
was never more tangible. The breath of the ocean as it greets 
you is a tonic invitation to resist depression and decay. Everytliing 
speaks of power and, inferentially, of accomplishment. The pure salt 
wind blowing hither from the horizon is a power — a very impressive 
one ; for, as the Seminole chieftain said, you can feel it, but you 
cannot see it. The resistless, eternal splash, splash, of the waves 
suggests power with ease and beauty, as each scattered drop is 
gathered and dashed again and again at your feet. This sense of 
power is the very antidote to weariness. Your prompted energies 
quicken and revive; you can realize to the full, intensities of 
expression. The deep feeling for nature, shown by the French 
landscape painters, has been accounted for by the fact that they 
are city dwellers, — companions of bricks and stone, — comrades of 
the dust of the French capital. When, therefore, the green fields 
are before them, — the new colors, new lights, new shadows, new 
forms and faces, — they see and paint with strange vividness — with 
intense appreciation, born of surprise and gratification. Similarly, 
a city dweller when he reaches the sea. He is delighted w'ith the 
sharpness of outline ; the briskness of life ; the exhilarating air ; 
the marked sense of health ; the gay colors which are so agreea- 
ble in the cool shadows of afternoon ; the relief of color in close- 
shaven green lawns jeweled with gorgeous blooms ; the delicate dra- 
peries about the windows of the houses ; the inviting, shadowed 
porches ; the faint sound of music and the sea ; the laughter of chil- 
dren, — all this and more come to him with the freshness of a new 
world. And for this he has forsaken a sunburnt city ; baked and 
dusty sidewalks ; languid streets ; a marked sense of physical depres- 
sion ; people with fever in their faces, the indifference of despair in 
their walk, and seldom a smile on their lips. There is no sound of the 
sea nor music, unless it is some aspiring band at the head of a per- 
spiring procession, endeavoring with noise to appease the fierce sun- 
god, and believing that in the sound of brass and cymbal there is 
a remedy for aching, worn-out nature. Who would not exchange 
such a metropolis for the sea, — 

The blue, the fresh, the ever free? 



In this way — or rather in these words — the reader is invited to 
the Jersey Coast. Is it asked to what the invitation leads? The 
coast Hne of the State comprises parts of Monmouth, Ocean, Bur- 
Hngton, Atlantic, and Cape May counties, and is a little over one 
hundred and twenty-seven miles in length from Sandy Hook to Cape 
May. Its beaches or divisions are formed by the intersection of 
inlets and rivers. They are composed of hard, white sand, and gen- 
erally are either islands or peninsulas. They lie parallel with the 
line of coast, and are separated from the mainland^by bays, channels, 
sounds, and salt marshes, and from one another by inlets. The 
principal beaches are, Long, Little, Brigantine, Absecom, Peck's, 
Ludlam's, Seven-Mile, Five-Mile, and Two-Mile. The peninsulas 
are, Sandy Hook, Squan or Island Beach, and Poverty Beach, 
making a total of about 20,000 acres of beach lands.' Between these 
beaches and the mainland, — from the head of Barnegat Bay to Great 
Egg Harbor, — there is an average width of water of six miles. From 
Great Egg Harbor to Cape May the average distance is three and 
a half miles. The principal inlets are, Barnegat, New, Brigantine, 
Absecom, Old, Corson's, Townsend's, Hereford, Cold Spring, and 
Turtle Gut. These inlets and rivers wind in 
and out through 155,000 acres of salt marshes, 
the surface of many acres being but a few 
inches above high water-mark. They are 
covered with good natural grasses — needing no 
cultivation — known as salt grass, black grass, 
and short sedge. Abundant hay is cut every 
summer upon these flats, and they afford good 
pasturage the year through for cattle and sheep. 
Fresh spring water is found in abundance. 
The bays and sounds along the coast afford a 
livelihood for quite a little world of people, 
whose commerce is comprised in fish, 05'sters, 
clams, lobsters, crabs, and wild fowl. These 
bays and sounds are about 117,000 acres in ex- 
^^-tent. The development of the coast into what 
it is, in the summer of 1883, has been largely 
brought about by the railroads. The facilities 




AN INVADER. 



by them afforded have prompted the formation of companies and 
organizations, of which there are twenty-nine in operation iijion 
the beaclies of the live counties named. These companies liave 
founded a string- of cities that in time will so extend that there 
will be both rail and carriage way along the ocean front from the 
drive, at Long Branch, to the signal station, at Cape May Point. 
Every summer adds to the thousands who are already dwellers by 
the sea ; every winter, to the householders in the towns and cities. 



Cape May. 




^iii 




ilif 



APE MAY, of all 
the summer resorts 
upon the Jersey 
coast, revives in the 
mention of the 
name the greatest 
summer memories. 
The courtships that 
have begun upon 
its beauteous beach 
run high into the 
thousands, since 
that first season 
when Captain Cor- 
-nelius Jacobese 
Mey, of Amster- 



dam, a rough old burgher Dutchman, in 
•the employ of the Netherlands West India 
Company, landed on this shore, prom- 
enaded up and down the beach, and, 
finding it so attractive, named it after 
himself in honest pride. The waves upon 
its beach have embraced millions of people since that summer two 



*'t*'-^i\^^^^^^y^* -^'Pff^^ 



st^'i 



i < ii 







FROM THE PIER, CAPE MAY. 



hundred and sixty-two years ago, and to-day they beat as musically, 
as endlessly, and break into as many lines of foam, as they did before 
the eyes of the Dutch navigator. 

Indeed, the waves at Cape May are one of its standard attrac- 
tions, dashing up, as they do, on what has often been called the finest 
beach in the world. Watching them, you are tempted to speculate 
concerning them. They are very beautiful. As they rise in gallant 
shape far out, topped by crests of white, they seem to be race-horses 
with wild and flowing manes. Then they break, and with a roar of 
exultation toss themselves upon the floor of whitened sand. Tide in 
or tide out, it is all the same ; they never seem to hush except in the 
shades and shadows of night. The tides that bring them are equally 
of interest. 

Twice a day the Severn fills ; 

The salt sea water passes by, 

And hushes half the babbling Wye, 
And makes a silence in the hills. 

The tides were long a mystery. Certain of the Greek philoso- 
phers reasoned from the tides that the earth was alive, and that the 
rising and falling were like the heavings of the human breast. The 
old Norse people thought a destructive tide was the invasion of an 
angry sea-god. Science has established that the moon, and in a less 
degree the sun, draws the water by the attraction of gravitation, and 
that the tidal wave follows the sun and moon in their daily courses 
from east to west. Tide was originally written time. High tide was 
the high time of the waters ; just as Christmas-tide is Christmas time. 
For six hours the tide flows or rises. A rising tide is a flood-tide. 
In a very short time after the flow of the tide ceases the fall or ebb 
begins. There are two tides in the day of twenty-four hours. The 
very highest tides at any one point are the spring tides, and they 
occur only when the attraction of the sun and moon reinforce each 
other or operate as one ; then the high water is the highest and the 
low water the lowest. But when the moon is at her first or third 
quarter, the sun's attractive force antagonizes that of the moon, and 
the neap tides result when the high water is at its lowest and low- 
water at its highest. The spring and neap tides occur every lunar 



lO 

month, or thirteen times a year. The set of the tide is the direction 
in which it moves, and its drift is its velocity in nautical miles. 

But a truce to tides. The county of Cape May was probably 
comprised in the Dutch purchase of 1629 ; and again, in 1641, it was 
bought of the Swedish Commissioners. It is impossible to fix the date 
of its earliest white settlement, but there are published records of a 
Baptist church at Cape May as early as 1675 ; and doubtless the good 
Baptists to the west and north visited there for health and rest in the 
summer months. This was the beginning. To-day Cape May is 
a prosperous summer city, a city with an admirable past, with a win- 
ter and a summer population, with great hotels and a great life pecu- 
liarly its own. 




CAPE MAY STATION. 

The city is laid out irregularly, and does not lose in picturesque 
beauty by the arrangement. The streets have patriotic names, but 
they are never asked, for, and so they will not be furnished here. 
Localities and distances are fixed by the hotels, which are the centres 
of the life, sharing, perhaps, a little wath the piers, of which this year 
there are three, — one a new and ver}^ handsome structure, extending 
into the water with saucy defiance to all the storms that blow. This 
can be better appreciated when it is remembered that brave Commo- 
dore Decatur has left on record some measurements of his, showing 
how the sea eat up from one to thirty feet of the land every year for 
nineteen years, from 1804 to 1821. And to this subject of the encroach- 



II 



ment of the sea, Professor Cook, the State Geologist of New Jersey, has 
recently called attention. A considerable breadth of land, he remarks, 
has been worn away during the last century all along the shore, 
from the Hook to the Cape. Near Shrews- 
bury inlet the water-line has moved from 
one hundred and sixty-five to three hundred 
and thirty feet inland during the last twenty- 
eight years. Opposite the old Long Branch 



CAPE MAY. 



HOW TO GET THERE, 

^1 „^ ^^..^. ^ trs. «-> Take Pennsylvania R. R. 

^'to^-j^ fi 4.u^^^U-,-,-^A-^^A to Philadelphia ; West Jer- 

Hotel the sea has eaten away three hundred ^_,^ j^ p., foot of Market 

and seventy-five feet of the bluff; and oppo- ^-^r^f 3^L;,;^?f 

site Whale Pond, the encroachment at one express trains daily. From 

1 ^1 i* „ ^ +„1 ^c ^,,^ Philadelphia, So miles, in 2 

pouit reaches the suggestive total ot h\e ,^^^^^^^ Fare frovi Phiiadei- 

hundred and twenty-five feet. About Cape i^^^-^^-^^^^lf^l ^^^ 

May the gain of the ocean has been more family ticket, $io: tzventy-five 

1 x- -1 1 u ir ^^^^-t, ^f trip, $2^; monthly ticket, $2s; 

marked. For a mile and a half north ot reason ticket, onepcrson, $40: 

New Endand creek, it has moved inland season ticket for purchaser 

•^ '^ ' .11 and wife, $50. 

ten hundred and forty feet in the last one 

hundred and eighty-seven years. A few 
rods further south the distance from the 
present to the old sea line is eight hundred 
and fifty feet. At Cape Island the shore 
has worn away a full mile since the Revolu- 



\NHERE TO STAY. 

STOCKTON HOTEL. 
1000 guests; $4 day, $25 week. 



CONGRESS HALL. 

tion, and even since the United States Coast 750 guests; $4 day, $25 week. 
Survey was instituted, thirty years ago, the ARCTIC, 

wear along the beaches north-east from the ^^^^f'' ^' ^'^•^'' ^'' '" ^'' 

WINDSOR. 

250 guests; $3 day, $21 week. 

MARINE VILLA. 

100 guests; $j day, $r8 week. 



Cape has been so great as to require very 
considerable changes in the map of the 
shore lines. These changes by themselves 
may very plausibly be ascribed to the con- 
tinued dashing of the waves upon the shore ; 
but in the salt and other tide marshes there 
are evidences that the level of high water is 
higher than it used to be. The flood-tides 
in Delaware Bay rise at least six inches 

higher this year than they did fifty years ago. There is a question 
here that needs an answer ; for in various parts of the State people 



Twenty-two other hotels zvith 
accommodations for thir- 
teen hundred and fifty 
quests, and prices from $2 
^to $3 a day ; $10 to $15 a 
week. 



12 



have been driven from their lands by the gradual rising of the sea. 
Many islands of excellent soil, some of them heavily timbered, have 
been submerged. The famous INIoney Island was one of these. 



At the beginning of the 
able size and well tim 
Teach, or Blackbeard, as 
there with his crew one 
season early in the last 
century. There is no 
trace of the island now-a- 



present century it was of consider- 
bered. The noted ]:)irate Captain 
he was popularly known, wintered 




schellinger's landing. 



days. John Harris, a 
Revolutionary soldier, 
bought what was known 
as Round Island, off 
Lower Alloway, 
in 1S03. It con- 
tained then forty 
acres of good 
upland. He 
cleared off the 
,^ "^ timber, and built comfortable farm build- 
.^^ * ^ ings. Subsequently he purchased a 
^' second island of about the same area, 

^rT ^ ' ^ near the first, and erected farm buildings 

— ^ on it. He cultivated the soil of both. 

S> On dying, he bequeathed one to each 
<c'_ / son. When, however, they went to 
— •■' >.i> «- take possession of their inheritance they 

found that the sea had claimed a legac}^, the islands were submerged, 
and the water refused to give back its gain. And yet to watch it on 
some quiet night, when the waters are almost silent in their mur- 



13 



murings ; when out on the horizon the parade of the vessels has be- 
come shadowy and indistinct ; when the winds have died away, and 
the Hght of the moon falls in a great silver blanket on the sea,— 
would hardly induce credence for the tales of the Atlantic's anger. 

The daily life of the visitor to Cape 
May is based upon regard, simply, for his 
most particular wants. The hotels are 
good, clean, and well cared for. They are 
cool and comfortable. The tables are gen- 
erous in good things, notably those of the 
place. The vegetables of Jersey are at all 
times prominent. After a substantial break- 
fast, a glance at the morning papers, the 
beach affords the time and place for a 
stroll. A cool breeze blows from the ocean ; 
there is not a cloud in the sky ; the sand 
was never so smooth and shiny. By noon 
the bathers are gathered in force. There 
is a rolling surf, safe and delicious. The 
bottom is clean, hard and sandy. There 
are hundreds in the water ; it is dotted for 
half a mile with the gayest of colors, — with 
romping, splashing, shouting people. On 
the beach are "the mammas," weighing a 
few too many pounds to compete with 
their daughters in bathing suits, compla- 
cently sunning themselves beneath umbrellas, and listening to 
the idle chatter of their attendant cavaliers, very generally thin 
men, with such spare figures, indeed, as to have induced the 
conviction that "sea bathing didn't agree with them." The bath 
over, there is a nap or game of billiards or bowls, until dinner. 
After dinner a drive down to Cape May Point, or up the beach to 
Sewell's Point, or a sail, if the tide serves, in one of the white-winged 
craft that cluster about Schellinger's landing and from there forge 
down the tortuous inlet and so out to sea. Or a ramble over the 
city will comfortably occupy the afternoon ; and if you lengthen your 



CAPE MAY POINT. 



HOW TO GET THERE. 

Take Pennsylvania R. R. 
to Philadelphia ; PVest Jer- 
sey Road, foot of Market 
Street, Philadelphia. Trains 
and tickets {one way aiid 
excursion) the same as to 
Cape May ; all trains makings: 
connection at Cape Mav zvi'th 
trains to Cape May 'Point, 
over the D. B. <2f C.'M. R. R. 



WHERE TO STAY. 

CARLTON HOUSE. 

300 guests, • $s to $4 day, $12 
to $21 week. 

BELLEVUE HOUSE. 

200 guests ; $2 day, $8 to $15 

zveek. 

CAPE HOUSE. 
ISO guests ; $2 to $j day, $10 

to $is week ; and others. 



H 

walk so as to return to the hotel by way of the beach, you will pos- 
sibly be gratified with a panorama of quiet significance, in which an 
umbrella, a man and a woman, several far-away looks, and a sigh or 
two, make up a programme of astounding human interest ! 




But the true 

V life of the place, 

^-. ■ --"^-■'' ^ - ..-••\^;.iir^ it is really 

.•* '.r."" more like some 

^ -'-"-■' " " " strange, shifting 

scenery, peopled with men and women from an unknown country, 

animated with pleasurable excitement, the time when you can enjoy 

the real flavor of Cape May, comes after supper, after eight o'clock. 

The city is ablaze with electric lights ; the vast verandas are thronged 

with restless thousands, who, forsaking the cottages, the sidewalks 

and the piers, — leaving them to lovers alone, — gather at each centre 

of life and existence. Music 

That softer on the spirit lies 
Than tired eyeUds upon tired eyes, 

floats upon the evening air ; now a waltz, now a galop, ever 
something spirited, something buoyant, something that by right 
belongs in Aladdin's palace. There is stir and bustle. Something 
is happening. Possibly it is a concert, a choral festival, a regi- 
mental parade, or a special attraction. Usual or special, it tends 
to quickened pulses, to happier hearts, to less of brooding, and to 
more of life, to health, and so — to happiness. Then follows the 
rest, the sleep which has been denied under the baking eaves of the 
cities, the breath of the purest air (for all th^ irregularities that drew 
some little censure to Cape May last year have been removed by 
Colonel Waring), and then the awakening, — refreshed, invigorated, 
as though there had been a supper at the fountain of perpetual 
youth and Ponce de Leon himself had been the host ! 



The Life along the Shore. 



¥^ ET it not be supposed that the only happiness at the sea-side 
I ^ centres on hotel porches and in cottage parlors ; that the 
-* — ■ human life when upon the piers and beaches furnishes all 
there is of interest. The flat, sandy shore is itself a world of 
wonders, and has a life of its own, independent of Philadelphians or 
New Yorkers, Professor Joseph Leidy, who is so well known for his 
accuracy of research, found in an ounce of sand collected between 
high and low tide more than 18,000 varieties of minute shells at 
Atlantic City, and over 28,000 at Cape May ! Does not this open the 
gate to hours of delightful interest? For shells have long excited 
attention. In many an humble dwelling they may be seen, while in 
habitations of a higher order they often appear as the result of a 
choice directed by taste and intelligence. Many a specimen, too, is 
associated with the remembrance of a delightful search on the 
sands when the tide was out ; of intercourse which gladdened 
and improved the heart ; and of scenes which left impressions on 
the mind not to be effaced. Yet the wonderful shells that the 
patient professor examined were not those every wanderer on a 
sea-beach readily recognizes. All along the coast he will notice 
the shells of clams and oysters. The first come of a noted 
family. The great clam, never seen in New Jersey, and seldom 
elsewhere, — but to which the clam you kick with a careless foot 
is second cousin, — is a very remarkable creature. We are told 



i6 

by Linneiis that one specimen weighed 498 pounds, furnishing 120 
men with provision for one day, and that the sudden closing of its 
valves was sufficient to snap a cable asunder, A manuscript pre- 
served in the British Museum notices the dimensions of a specimen 
brought from Sumatra, and preserved at Arno's Vale, in Ireland, 
the weight of which amounted to 507 pounds ; the largest valves 
measured four feet six inches in length, two feet five inches and a 
half in breadth, and one foot in depth. A shell of the same species 
forms the baptismal font at the Church of St. Sulpice, in Paris. It 
was presented by the Venetians to Francis I, 

The oyster is even of greater interest, and a far more general 
favorite. The Greeks, and more especially the Romans, when they 
levied contributions far and wide to cover the table of an Apicius 
or a Lucullus, held oysters in high estimation, and attached no small 
importance to the localities from whence they were obtained. 
Oysters are amazingly fruitful. Poll states that one of these animals 
contains 1,200,000 eggs; so that a single oyster might yield enough 
to fill 12,000 barrels. These eggs are expelled in the form of spawn 
or white fluid, called by the oysterman "spats." The manner in 
which they swim doubtless serves to attach them to the submarine 



%. 








T7 



bodies, or to individuals of their own species. Tiien the new ones, 
in being developed, smother, as it were, the old ones, not permitting 
the water to reach them, or hindering them from opening their shell. 
In this way are formed the immense oyster banks which can be in- 
spected at Cape May and Atlantic City, -^r^^^"^ The oyster 
trade from these two localities in the *' R " m o n t h s is 

very extensive and profitable. "X 

The oyster, the clam, and other mol "^"^ luscous ani- 

mals are a part of the pro .^-^aS"^""^ vision made 

for various other creatures, /^''^'^'%' Foxes and 

raccoons, when pressed with hunger, will gladly make a meal of them, 
as they will of crabs, fish, and insects. The ducks and the gulls 
derive from them a part, at least, of their daily menu. Crows do not 
despise mollusca, and have been seen ingeniously opening clams by 
taking them up into the air twenty or forty yards and letting them 
fall on the stones, thus breaking the shells. Barnacles, also, are 
eaten by birds, fishes, and 



"■'^^ 



else is available 
marine ani 
attached by 
stones, the 
ber from 
white shells 



The 



;r^ 



jsgSS'KiSWjju 





animals when nothing 
barnacle is a curious 
'"^ ^ ^ mal, often found 
a fleshy rope to rocks, 
keels of ships and floating tim- 
wrecks. Their delicate blue- 
and feathery, many-jointed arms are of extreme 
interest to an observer, no less than the curious 
belief, current about them as late as the last 
century, that they developed into a particular 
The most learned writers of Europe kept this 
myth alive from the fifteenth century. 

Quite as companionable are the sea-weeds, brown tangles, and 
sea-wrack, — delicate scarlet-branched water-plants ; Iceland mosses 
and the long ribbon weeds, with fluted edges, that are cast upon the 
beach from the great sea-weed belt, about a mile wide, that fringes 
the coast from Florida to ]\Iaine. And after sea-weeds and shells 
come the phenomena of the ocean, sometimes thought to be con- 
nected with them, such as the occasional luminosity of the surface 
of the sea, in whose depths rest the wrecks of " ten tliousand royal 
argosies " — a wonderful sea, indeed. 



species of goose. 



The floor is sand, like tlie mountain drift, 

And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow ; 
From coral rocks the sea-plants lift 

Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow. 

The water is calm and still below, 
For the winds and the waves are absent there ; 

And the sands arc bright as the stars that glow 
In the motionless fields of the upper air. 

There, with its waving blade of green, 
The sea-flag streams through the silent water, 

And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen 
To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter. 

There, with a light and easy motion. 
The fan-coral sweeps through the clear, deep sea, 

And the yellow and scarlet tUfts of ocean 
Are blended like corn on the upland lea. 

And life, in rare and beautiful forms. 

Is sporting amid those bowers of stone. 
And is safe when the wrathful spirit of storms 

Has made the top of the waves his own. 

Would the reader follow further on this sea-shore ramble, let him 
consult the pregnant pages of Damon's "Ocean Wonders ;" Taylor's 
" Half-hours at the Sea-side ;" Harvey's "Sea-side Book;" Lewis' 
''Sea-side Studies;" the ever-fascinating J. G. Wood's "Common 
Objects at the Sea-shore ;" or Kingsley's "Glaucus." 

If sea-shells and weeds do not entice the idler, there is that just 
over the dunes along the shore that may chain his passing fancy : 
wild flowers of many hues and shapes, changing with the months ; 
daisies, pyxies, butter-cups, the wild sweet-pea, violets, anenones, 
roses, water-lilies, purple flags, and many varieties of ferns and nod- 
ding grasses, sand-reeds, and, when August is almost over, proud 
bunches of golden rod. Then, in the woods, notably at Atlantic 
City, are marvelous holly trees, attaining often a height of twenty 
feet or more, thoroughly upsetting the popular idea of the holly- 
bush. These are a pleasure to study and observe. In other recesses 
of these woods are trees covered thickly with draperies of pale gray 
moss, much like the Spanish moss of the Southern States, but finer 
in texture than that variety. The sand cedars will repay a careful 



19 

acquaintance, and their twisted but al- 
ways artistic branches will furnish many 
a text for a mental discourse, as you 
wander on the sands at night. 





" Nourishing one's middle age sublime, 
With the fairy tales of science, and the 
long results of time." 



.It will not be wasted work if some 
few minutes of the days are given up to 
the observation of atmospheric phenom- 
ena, and such geological facts as are 
in the structure of the sea- 
coast. Years ago much of 
the present coast line of the 
State was beneath the waves. 
Evidence of such fact is fur- 
nished by the broad salt 
marshes that interpose between several of 
the summer cities and the highlands to 
the west of them. There is little study 
more interesting than this, of the cosmic 
architecture of continents and islands. On this sub- 
ject much valuable information may be found in 
Geikie's "Elementary Lessons in Physical Geology ;" 
Agassiz's "Geological Sketches;" or in Guyot's 
work on "Physical Geology." Even where the 
hand of man has been applied to efface the natural 
features of the shore, there is always something in 
the wide expanse of sea and sky, and in the changes 
which can be traced to the reacting influence of sea 
and land, which will repay study, and enlarge the 
realm of thought. 



Cape May to Atlantic City. 



Two pleasant afternoons may be numbered among- the sum- 
mer days at Cape May, if the visitor will in one case stroll or 
drive along the beach to Sewell's Point, and in the other do 
the same to Cape May Point, two of the minor summer resorts 
of Cape May County. The beach, which is the best thoroughfare at 
all times, is as pleasantly yielding to the foot as some rare Eastern 
carpet, possessing elasticity and firmness, and marked and crossed 
with the quaintest of patterns, traced by the sea or woven by the 
flecking foam of the waves, tossed hither and yon by the gusty wind. 
The waves roll in to your feet with a shimmering movement, and play 
and twist upon the flat, gray sand. So rare is the afternoon, so blue 




rHE WAY TO SEWELL S POINT. 




v^vvxv.^' the sea, that the waves will win your 
whole attention. Perhaps you may notice 
a curious efiect which often attracts the 



onlooker, — the combed and furrowed appear- 
^ ance of the back of the wave as it curls over. 

This combing appears suddenly, beginning at the ad- 
vancing edge of the crest and spreading backwards. In small waves, 



2T 



a foot or so In height 
are seen in shallow 
the front of the 
while the back of 
rowed, but the edge 
nated, and almost 
pears on the back 
backwards f r o m 
able length of the 
at almost the same 
crest falls rather 
front, but it sud 
often fringed with 
a row or rows of 
drops, the 
combing 

appear- 

ing at 




and of long-extended front, such as 

water, the crest, which rolls down 

wave, is at first smooth and even, 

the wave is also smooth and unfur- 

of the crest suddenly becomes cre- 

simultaneously the combing ap- 

of the wave, traveling rapidly 

the crenated edge. A consider- 

wave appears to be thus affected 

instant. In larger waves the 

than rolls upon the concave 

denly becomes uneven, and is 



SIGNAL STATION, CAPE MAY POINT. 

the same instant. The reason of it 
all is, that a long cylinder of liquid 
is unstable, and will, if left to itself, 
at once split into a row of equal, 
equidistant drops. So comes about 
this combing of the waves — a very pretty 
little fact, which can be seen every hour 
by the sea. And there are other facts 



in the day 
about waves 



22 



equally curious and equally amusing, which can be found stated 
upon the pages of books of greater proportions than this. 

Sewell's Point is a picturesque spot, with a good landing and a 
fair-sized hotel, and is the land point where the waters of the inlet join 
those of the Atlantic, in a whirling, rapid race over the sandy bar. 
Cape May Point, on the other extremity of what the visitors call Cape 
May Beach, is a place of considerable importance. When it was first 
originated it was called Sea Grove. It was started as a summer re- 
sort under Presbyterian auspices, and the religious influence has al- 



ways been a marked feature of the place, 
names of streets. It is only two miles from 
and enjoys the happy distinction of being 
cape proper. It owns to a signal 
and a light-house ; -~«^ 

ter has a good deal ^"'i^ 



¥ 



extending even to 
Cape May City, 
the point of the 
station 
the lat- 
of his- 




LIGHT-HOUSE, CAPE MAY POINT. 



tory and 
strong, 
out to sea 



some romance woven about the 
bright light that it flashes forty miles 
There is here, near the hotels, a fresh- 
water lake, which sometimes rather excites comment for the freshness 
of its water so near the ocean. It has a water area of about forty acres, 
and a wee navy all to itself. It aflbrds many an hour of amusement, 
as does the Delaware River, which here enters the sea, on its way — 
well, around the world. Cape May Point, which is undeniably suited 
to the purpose, has joined the list of all-round-the-year resorts, and 
on a winter day has its charms apart. 



23 



Equidistant— eighteen 
lantic City is Sea Isle City, 
into favor since 1880. 
beach, of great width, 
dences of higher ambi 
aUve in summer cities, 
of the principal aven 
busts, surrounded with 
and a dozen other 



miles— from Cape May and At- 
a new resort that has grown 
It has a very enticing 
and everywhere evi- 
tion than is usually 
At the intersections 
ues there is colossal 
flowers, of Minerva 
mythological 
deities, whose 
white, clear cut, 
classic features 



vjVi'^^^^^^' look strangely 
out of place amid the 
1' ^' sand cedars and the modern 
houses. Their presence suggests 
, that some heathen sacrifice upon 
the sea-shore is about to be made, 
'^::y some propitiation to Jupiter or 
the god of storms. The busts are 
a part of a preconceived plan to 
effect beauty by example ; and the 
laws of Sea Isle City, to which all 
its inhabitants subscribe, make 
it imperative to grow flowers. The drainage is arranged upon an 
ideally scientific basis ; and there is a feudal-looking bufldmg out 
upon the salt marsh, standing alone, suggesting isolation, that is 

used for ajafl. , ^u 4. <. 

But of all the features of Sea Isle City, a square house that at 
first sight seems queer in conception and execution, built immedi- 
ately upon the beach, deserves the most notice. It solves a long- 
vexed problem for practical men,-a good dwelling in a favored spot 
and at small expense. From the sketch illustrations the reader will 




..^.^^ 



ON THE ROAD TO SEA ISLE CITY. 



24 

comprehend the description. The ground plan of both stories is this : 
the four corners up-stairs and down-stairs furnish eight 
comfortable, though not large-sized rooms. The cen- 
tre of this simple residence is the dining-room and 
parlor. There is an open fireplace, from which come 
ruddy sparks should the evening grow chilly, and the 
large door in front lifts up during the day and forms, as 
it were, a wooden awning over the main entrance. The cost of the 
house to build was $720, and the land upon which it stands cost |2oo 
more. Two simple vine trellises, running up to the roof, are in June 
covered with a cloud of roses, and the simple little residence is an 
object of great beauty, and a quaint landmark of the place. It de- 
serves a greater celebrity than it has, for it takes from beneath the 
net of vexation a question long unanswered and of much sorrow. 





itif***'^'/"' 



A $720 HOUSE. 

Somers' Point is the terminus of a branch of the West Jersey- 
Railroad, and should claim a day from any lover of rural scenery. 
It is delightfully situated on Great Egg Harbor Bay, and fur- 
nishes many a vista of quiet woodland and of river. The place 
is crowned with historical memories. It has its name from John 
Somers, cousin of John Lord, Earl of Hardwick, who was born 
in England in 1640. He was a preacher in the Society of Friends, 



25 

and came over to this country in that capacity, and purchased, 
in 1695, three thousand acres of land of one of the original pro- 
prietors — Thomas Budd. One of his sons, Richard Somers, burnt 
the brick which compose the Somers mansion, now standing at 




INTERIOR OF A S720 HOUSE. 



Somers' Point. It was this Richard Somers who won much reputa- 
tation as a colonel in the armies of George Washington. All of the 
descendants of John Somers lived noteworthy lives and died in gen- 
erally curious ways, — some for their country's flag, and others by 



26 



violence. Not far from the Som- 
ers mansion, in a still and solemn 
wood, where great pines and oaks 
tower to the sky, is situated the 
Somers graveyard ; and here most 
of them who died in their native 
land have found a simple resting- 
place, — a grave covered with 
grasses and flowers, and sur- 
rounded with trees that are hung 
with a pale gray-green moss, as 
though in mourning. The history 
of the headstones is abundant 
i'^ in rich suggestion, in that 




' '^i|f^,;»,,7:J?JiWPiT^^^^ 







SOMERS MANSION AND CLUB-HOUSE. 



^.-"^'y flavor of deeds and actions that clings 
'^'^if round every record of perilous days. 

There are several club-houses at this 
point, which in the long summer weeks are 
tenanted by strangers from the towns, seeking 
relief from the oppression of the sunshine. The wharf is the place 
of departure for Beasley's Point,— a "red-flannel resort,"— a few 






27 

miles up the river, mucli in repute by gun- 
ners and the Isaac Waltons of the day ; and 
also for Ocean City, one of the summer cities 
that has grown into its present promi- 
nence through the efforts of a number of 
earnest Methodists. As such, a certain 
measure of curiosity attaches to the place, 
a desire to know just what such men would 
make of a city. Their situation on Peck's 
beach — a smooth, broad, seven-mile beach- 
has much of merit. Their city is well 
planned, and though but three years old, 
has a fine architectural face, with some 
artistic cottages, flower-beds, and bright 
foliaged trees. There are everywhere sand 
cedars that lend a beauty of outline. There 
are a great many hundred people here in 
the summer, and in addition to the regular 
religious exercises, every season is marked 
by camp-meetings, when the houses of the 
town are largely added to by tents. The 
association owns and occupies an island, 
and so on Sunday there reigns a strictly 
Sunday discipline, an observance of the day 
that is wanting elsewhere. 

And yet the sea is just as beautiful and 
just as enticing as on Saturday; and after 
a service in the large auditorium most of 
the congregation will be found beside the 
waves, enjoying their blue brightness, which 
color it is conceded is a reflection of the 
blue of the sky. Homer often speaks of 
"the wine-faced deep;" and a modern 
English poet tells of "Summer isles of 
Eden lying in the dark purple spheres of 
sea." In truth, a purplish or wine-like flush 



SEA ISLE CITY. 



HOW TO GET THERE. 

Take Pennsylvania R. R. 
to Philadelphia ; West Jer- 
sey Road, foot of Market 
Street, Philadelphia . Trains, 
time, and price of tickets the 
same as to Cape May, con- 
nection zuith main line at 
Sea Isle Junction. From 
Philadelphia, 66 miles. 



WHERE TO STAY. 

SEA VIEW HOUSE. 

loo guests ; $2.50 a day. 
LIDEY'S HOTEL. 

100 guests ; SS to $10 a week; 
and eighteen other houses, 
with accommodations for 
500 guests, $1 to $2 a day. 



SOMERS' POINT. 

HOW TO GET THERE. 

Take Pennsylvania R. R. 
to Philadelphia ; West Jer- 
sey R. R. foot of Market 
Street, Philadelphia, to Plea- 
santville ; change cars to 
Somers' Point. From Phila- 
delphia , 66 miles, 2 hours. In 
Winter2, in Summer 4, trains 
daily. Fare, single ticket, 
$1.12 ; ten-day excursion, 
$1.50. 



WHERE TO STAY. 

BRADFORD HOUSE. 
60 guests ; $2 day, $10 to $15 
week. 
WAVERLY HOUSE. 
40 guests; $2 day, $10 to $12 
week. 
DOLPHIN HOUSE. 
j-o guests; $1.50 day, $8 to $10 
week. 



28 



OCEAN CITY. 



HOW TO GET THERE. 



may at times be noticed on the ocean 
under peculiar atmosplieric conditions. More 
often it is sea-green when the winds are 
/.^/SaS/JSf ?;?/>^: fresh and the skies are overcast. A dark- 
^S^ ^: ^r-A^L.^-f ^^^X!^^^ gray prevails when a storm is at hand. 

street, Philadelphia, to Plea- ^t /- i-r • 

santviiie ; change cars to Near California there IS a "vermilion" 
Steamer e"' ]\'rorr!s."^^From ^^a, whicli at times presents a very reddish 

tint. The ocean near Key West is of a milky 
hue, owing to the great banks of white coral 
at the sea-bottom. Yet none of these colors 
quite equal the blue of the sea on a rare 
day in June. Towards night its tints grow 
darker and more blue, and the horizon in the 
light of the setting sun seems just a line of 
black, beaded with burning gold. That 
fades at last, and the idler on the shore can 
but listen, with the words of Edwin Arnold 



Philadelphia, 67 miles, 2%. 
hours. Two trains in Win- 
ter, 4 in Summer daily. Sin- 
gle ticket, one way, $1.27; ten- 
day excursion ticket, $1.50. 

WHERE TO STAY. 

THE BRIGHTON. 
725 guests; $2 to $2.50 day, 
$12 to $18 week. 

WESLEY HOUSE. 
100 guests; $2 to p.^o day, 
$12 to $18 week. 

HAVEN HOUSE. 
60 guests; $1.50 to $2. so day, 
$10 to $15 week; and a num- 
ber of cottages that zvill ac- as a prompt book, and 
commodate 200 people. 



Hear the grating roar 

Of pebbles which the waves strike back, and fling, 
At their return up the high strand, 

Begin and cease ; and then again begin, 
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring 

The eternal note of sadness in. 



Rod and Gun. 



IFE on the Jersey coast, in 
common with the coast Hfe of 

fW- — 'U\^^^^^^^^^^ other Atlantic 

^iK^^C '^'^^ with which to win the 
^ i'^ presence of the sportsman. 
There is to be had employ- 
ment for both line and gun. 
-V The game birds that annually 
'>^z^\ visit Cape May, Atlantic City, 
and the other coast cities 



comprise quite a wide range, 
and include, as they do else- 
where, some varieties that are 
valueless. No one, unless he 
were extremely hungry, or 
somewhat ignorant, would try 
to make a meal off the thin-breasted coot, 
one of the commonest winter fowls on the Jersey 
shore. The cook of Marshal Saxe, who served the old general's 
top-boots with such piquant sauce that the identity of the boots 
remained undiscovered, might try a coot, but no one of less bolder 




30 



-.^^^ 



^. 



confidence would attempt it. Yet the coot, with his soft, 
thick, brown feathers, and his twinkling eye, is often a 
tempting shot. And there is nothing in Jersey law to pre- 
vent a trial of your ammunition and aim. Yet the coot 
_^ is an exasperating bird, for he so often moves in 
^^ the best society — of ducks — as to excite the hopes 

tant gunner, and lure him into an unwarrantable ex- 




of the dis 
citement. 

Better 
the black 
summer. Then 
until the middle 
dippers, and red 
habits with the 
same time as the 
do, in April. Gray 
ist of September, 
Then they h u r r >- 
visit to the coast In 




far than coots, and much richer prizes, are 

ducks, which, like the strangers, remain all 

there are the broad bills, which do not appear 

of October. The cub heads, 

heads — all of which have similar 

broad bills — appear about the 

coast guards, and leave when they 

ducks and teal appear about the 

and stay for two months. 

southward, and pay a second 



the spring. They are evi- 
about spend- 
s n o w. Wild 
falling, and, 
numbers, and 
when, electing 





dently very particular 
ing Christmas where there is no 
geese come as the leaves are 
like the leaves, in wonderful 
remain until the last of March, 
their leaders, they marshal their lines in 
long wavy V's, and lead the way to the 
frozen North. They are thorough discip- 
linarians, these geese ; if you kill their 
leader they will alight and elect another befo're resuming their 
onward career. Brant appear at the same time as the geese, and 
leave with them. 

A milder-mannered bird, much more shy, and better eating, is 
the English snipe, which appears on the Jersey coast about the ist of 
April, remains but a short time, goes north, and returns in October for 
a short time on the way south. Wilson snipe, robin snipe, chattering 
curlews, and yellow legs come into fashion in May, select their summer 
quarters, disappear, and return in July, to stay out the season until 




31 



October. The several varieties of plover, with their plaintive cries, 
arrive in May, and, like good, sensible birds, remain all summer. 
Willets do likewise, and find their cosy breeding places on the salt 
marshes. There is a very pleasant catalogue to pick from, and a 
good breech-loader can be well warmed on almost any summer day 
along the shores and over the salt fields. The game laws of the 
State are exceedingly liberal. Sportsmen are prohibited, when 
hunting geese, brant, or ducks, from placing their decoys "further 
off from the edge of the marsh, island, bar, bank, blind, or ice than 
three rods distance. ' ' No birds can be hunted after dark with a light. 
All gunning for wild fowl in Barnegat Bay and Manasquan River be- 
tween sunset and sunrise is prohibited, and the time of hunting them is 

/, 



4 7^ 







/ 



1 f -^^ 



y 



limited 

to the 

days between 

October 15th 

and April 15th. At all the towns . ^:^^..,. 

and cities along the coast there ^ mmm 



32 



are plenty of professional gunners, who know the choice spots, who 
shoot all day for their patrons, and charge moderately for their ser- 
vices. Most of them keep guns and ammunition, and require little 
notice to enter the service of the stranger Nimrod. 

Other than game birds there are many. No visitor to the shore 
can fail to watch the swallows coursing up and down the beach from 
morning to night in search of their insect prey, and they fare bounti- 
fully. The myriads of flies, midges, and other insects which infest the 
sea-weed afford them, as well as other beach birds, a generous plenty 
for their own sustenance, and food for their eager young. They fly in 
detachments, and, save when they alight for building materials, or for 
some tempting unwinged dainty, never abate the wonderful velocity 

of their flight, whether they revel in the 
stillness of an August morning or grace- 
fully conquer a south-easter in April. The 
great blue martin sometimes joins the 
beach swallow in his skimming flights over 
the sands. The king bird, well reputed 
for his anti-crow propensities, forages 
regularly on the beach, starting swarms 
of insects from the sea-weed, and feeding 
*on them at will. The common chirping 
sparrow is often seen upon the beach, and 
during their migrations the robins some- 
times seek the shore for gravel and 
insects. The sand at the back of the beaches is the favorite breed- 
ing ground of the Savannah sparrow. He arrives from the South in 
April. His habits are peculiarly terrestrial ; he sings, wooes, and 
nests upon the ground, and when disturbed by man prefers to escape 
by running and dodging among the grass rather than by taking 
flight ; yet, strangely enough, he sings when upon the wing wath 
great ardor. But it is not intended to teach natural history on this 
small page — merely to prompt the reader to more, to studying the 
birds on his daily walks. 

For the lover of the line and reel, the waters in and about the 
New Jersey coast are most generous. Boats are to be had in plenty. 
Bluefish and red-flannel bait appear about the middle of May, and 




A FISHERMAN. 



33 



leave in October. Fishing for them is a royal delight. The majestic 
beauty of the fish, his strength and skillful stratagems appeal to the 
fisherman's nature, and invite a tussle that has all the qualities of hon- 
orable combat. Sheep's-head follow bluefish in about a month, but 
leave with the others. Weakfish stay from May to October, and re- 
pay many an hour's hunt with their most tender flesh. The striped 
bass inhabit the rivers the year round, but are more plentiful in sum- 
mer than during the colder half of the year. They afford good sport, 
for they are very ready to take the bait, yet difficult to secure on ac- 
count of their tender mouths, their 
wily ways, and great strength. 
When hooked, they leap and 
plunge, swim with great force 
and swiftness in their endeavors 
to break away. A favorite ruse 
:>f the bass is to double back 
under the boat in order to cut the 
line upon the keel, or to gain a 
fixed point from which it may 
be able fo drag the hook from its 
mouth. The great sea bass, a 
fish of differing habits and won- 
derful proportions, can be caught 
from the ist of July until the ist 
of October. 

In and about the ponds are plenty of perch, — bold-biting, hard- 
dying perch, — the only fish that the pike dare not attack. Its dorsal 
fin when erect is as sharp and as obstinate as a paper of pins. It cares 
nothing for its fellow-fish, and never seems to notice his absence, if he 
be suddenly jerked to the air above. It will live quite a long time out 
of water, and is excellent food. They come early in the season and 
remain late, and prefer brackish water to fresh or purely salt. Black- 
fish bite from June till October, as do the kingfish. The summer 
flounder can often be observed chasing the minnows during its visit 
to the coast ; and the flounder proper, which is a winter fish, comes in 
October and leaves in May. The porgee is abundant after July, and 
the ashen-green codfish — the fish that is eaten by civilized people 




A FISHERMAIDEN. 



34 

the world around, and by the cows in Norway — is taken late in the 
autumn and during the early winter. After the fish come the shell- 
shedding lobsters and crabs. In the shallows of Shark River the lat- 
ter are most abundant, and are sought for by crab-hunters at every 
tide. Seaward from all points on the coast, on most days, can be seen 
the diving, romping porpoises ; and perhaps, gentle reader, if you gaze 
intently, you may see, also, some of the whales — that "a company 
from Elizabethtown were granted ten years' permission to catch by 
Sir George Carteret, on February 15th, 1668." 




Atlantic City. 




TLANTIC CITY is 

a distinctly different 
place from its coast 
competitors in many 
respects other than those of 
latitude and longitude. The 
- city has an architecture 
of its own, or rather a style 
, of architecture, that has 
been developed by its peculiar 
needs as both a winter and summer 
resort, and by the taste of its 
owners, who are mainly Phila- 



delphians. 



Driving m 
and about it you are con- 
vinced of a fact that becomes 
parent with every mile you 
coast —that the Centennial 
T ExhTbiUon w^as^^gidsend to the State of New Jersey ! 
'^From C.pe May Point to Sandy Hook are a hundred 
- woode.? reminders of the Centennial, the headquarters of 



more and more ap ^. 
travel on the Jersey 








ATLANTIC CITY, FROM THE SOUTH. 

some foreign State now turned into a restaurant 
or pavilion ; the ornamental parts of some big 
building now become an integral portion of a 
pier. The office of the Centennial Commission 
is translated to the sand, and does duty for a hotel. 
The Ladies' Pavilion, cut up and mangled, is trans- 
formed into a stable. The thrift of all New England, 
the ingenuity of the Union, could not do more with 
the Centennial structures than has been done upon 
the shores of Jersey. And from these borrowed plumes 
Atlantic City derives some^ certain characteristics. 

The city is eight-and-twenty years old. The streets 
are straight and broad ; the avenues broader and 
straighter. The city occupies the best part of an 
island nine miles long, and from a few hundred feet 
to a mile in width, being separated from the mainland 
by a strait called the "Neck." There is an abun- 
dance of trees, which give to the streets a very com- 
fortable look. The fact, too, that the city is a pros- 




THE BOARD-WALK AND THE PIER. 



perous one for twelve months of tlie year has given to it so many 
buildings of the permanent order that the face of the place is much 
changed on that account. On all sides, on all streets, are hotels, 



39 

and in summer the city is literally a hive. Being within such com- 
fortable distance of Philadelphia, Atlantic City becomes, with the 
approach of warm weather, the Mecca of every person in the 
Pennsylvania metropolis who has a day to spare. Down they come 
by thousands ; ravage the great ocean of a bath, and the Inlet, of a 
glorious sail ; cast an always successful line for the myriad fish of 
the Atlantic waters; or enjoy the breeze, the stir and bustle, the 
grand army of bathers in their countless manoeuvres ; the life and 
coolness of the big pier, which stretches a grasping hand into the 







^i:'/ 



BOAT-HOUSE AT THE INLET. 



ocean ; the fleet 
of idling boats ; 
the sun and the 
shadows; the 
romping chil- 

'^>--- ' dren ; and, in more conservative fashion, the crowd 

itself, in which each man or woman is of no more importance than 
one of the thousand waves that dashes in and out among its 
companions, breaks, and is lost to sight. Then there is enjoy- 
ment in the move homewards, and the board-walk, with its 
kaleidoscopic pictures of humanity, its booths, and its people. For 
there are those in such a c'ty as Atlantic that are peculiarly "board- 
walk people." They find a living there on the walk, and, like the 
fish that obtain color from their haunts and the depth of the sea in 



40 



ATLANTIC CITY. 



HOW TO GET THERE. 

Take Pennsylvania R. R. 
to Philadelphia ; IVest Jer- 
sey R. R., foot of Market 
Street, Philadelphia. From 
Philadelphia, 6s miles, go 
fnifiiites. Winter 2, Summer 
5, express trains daily, with 
2 additional trains each way 
on Saturdays and Mondays. 
First-class fare one way, $i; 
ten-day excursion ticket, 
$1.50; cottage, single, $40; 
purchaser and zinfe, $30; 
twenty-trip family, $13-50: 
one tnonth, i person, $20 ; 2 
months, $29,-3 months, $35; 4 
montlis, $37; 5 months, 39; 6 
months, $41; 7 tnonths, $43: S 
months, $43: g months, $4/: 10 
months, $48; 11 months, $49; 
and 12 months, $50. 



WHERE TO STAY. 

BRIGHTON HOTEL. 
200 guests; $3 to $4 day,$iS 
to $30 zveek. 

THE DENNIS. 
223 guests; $3 to $4 day, $16 
to $30 iveek. 

HADDON HOUSE. 

J30 guests; $3 to $4 day, $i& 

to $23 7i'erk. 

SEA-SIDE HOUSE. 

■fj^ guests; $3 day, $18 to $23 

liJPPf?, 

UNITED STATES. 

330 guests ; $3 to $4 day, $13 

to $2^ week. 
CONGRESS HALL. 
300 guests; $3 to $3.30 day, 

$iS to $21 zveek. 

HOTEL ALBION. 
230 guests; $3 to $3.30 day, 

$13 to $21 week. 

WAVERLY HOTEL. 
200 guests; $3 to $3.30 day, 

$13 to $2^ week. 

TRAYMORE. 
123 guests; $3 day, $iS to $21 

week; and 66 other hotels, 

with accommodations for 

6000 guests, and prices 

from $1.23 to $3.00 a day, 

$7 to $18 a week. 



which they swim, seem to have become 
permanently affected by their surroundings. 
They would be out of place on the sand, on 
the wide avenues, or the porches of the big 
hotels ; they belong, like the fiddler crabs, 
or the neat, methodical, red-tape, and 
fool's-cap fellows of Washington, the "bur- 
officers" of the departments — in certain 
frames; otherwise, you never notice them, 
they are at home only on the board-walk. 
There is, besides this, as fair a share of 
amusement as usually falls to the lot of the 
traveler — in the drives and rambles about 
Atlantic, The coast here is very pretty 
and offers freely of its abundance. A day 
well spent winds up with an evening of 
merriment. The hotels are full of move- 
ment ; there is a quantity of music ; there 
is gayety under every roof Dancing serves 
to recall the embroidery of existence, and 
is indulged in first by the children, and 
after nine o'clock by the children grown 
up. Between the numbers you are quite 
likely to hear some "tall" fishing yarns, — 
some boasts of prowess with the hook. 
Time flies, and before you know it mid- 
night is come to chase the revelers to their 
idle beds ; to draw down the curtains and 
put out the lights. 

In winter Atlantic City is another place. 
The same houses are there as before, the 
same streets, the same towering white 
light-house, but the summer has gone, and 
with it all of the summer people. In their 
places have come fewer, but solemner 
people — people whose real mission is the 




finding: of health, and they have 
come where there is additionally 
something- of interest. For a 
winter day on the Atlantic shore 
is invested with a higlily original 
charm. The elasticity of life, 
the " straw-hat " carelessness of 
August, is lacking. The trees 
are bare, and present their brown 
branches in silhouette against 
the sky. The flowers of a short while ago being dead, there is 
but little color in any street. Deserted balconies, barred windows 
and doors, and closed gates hint of lifelessness. On the beach the 



42 

frost has crept down to meet the waves, and disputes with them pos- 
session of the sand. About and above the beach are Arctic gulls, 
lazily drooping their silent wings. The sea, a little colder in color, 
tinted a little more with gray, is otherwise the same as in June. Its 
waves toss as restlessly, its song is as musical, but keeps a wilder 
tune, exulting in victory, or muttering in defeat in its daily contests 
with the sand-dunes. Here and there are proofs of the prowess of a 
storm, — bits of driftwood, a spar, wrenched from its fastenings in 
some moment of trouble, a ship^s name-board — all that remains of 
some craft too frail to withstand the relentless force of the waves. A 
dismantled, partly-wrecked pier thrusts a jagged end out into the 
sea, defiant to the last. It is weather-beaten, stained, attacked on 
all sides, and yet in its wildest fury the sea cannot tear from the pier 
the legacy it bestowed upon each sturdy spile, the coronals of flutter- 
ing green sea-weed that wave like feathers below the surface. 








^^ fe^^^ 






A MONSTHR OF THE STRAND. 



Within sight are a few strangers, — that is, they seem but a few, — 
advance guards for the army of July. They walk briskly, how- 
ever, and enjoy their overcoats. Now and again, as the view serves, 
they stop to note the long lines of breaking waves. These gazers 
are people who love the ocean at all times, for its mourning tones, 
in the strong light of noonday sun or in the red flush of a winter 
sunset ; which shall fade into velvet red and purple, then a golden 
brown, and then into night. And as its remembrance becomes too 
shadowy to follow, they return to the hotels, to blazing fires, to com- 
fortable dinners, to their friends, to life, animation, and humanity. 



43 

Not far down the coast — about four miles — is what is known as 
South Atlantic City, and you can reach it by a ramble over the most 
picturesque sand-hills, crowned with cedars and huge holly trees, 
where a thousand wild flowers carpet the l a i • n- 

woods, or you can travel down the beach, ^^^'^^ Athntio City. 
which will well repay your footsteps in views " 

of much beauty. As you near the place "^^ '^ ^^' THERE. 
the peculiarity of the first bit of architecture, /^ Phiiad7ip)uaTTvest Jer- 
which here assumes the shape of an ele- 'J:y ^- ^r./"F^,j/ ^{'^'''^f 

^ street, Philadelphia, to At- 

phant, makes a most amusing effect so close lantic City ; thence by rail 

to the sea. As you approach you find the rnag e. 



elephant is reinforced by a section of the WHERE TO STAY. 

Centennial, and the oddity of the place is cedar grove hotel. 
then in full relief. Further back there are ^^s guests; $1.50 to $2 day, 

, , , , , , , . $8 to $12 7veek; and five 

groves and shady nooks where the breath cottages for 250 guests; 
of the woods comes to you with the sound ^^-^^ " '^''-'^ ^' ^^ ^'' '"''''- 
of the sea, and the delights of both are blended indissolubly. 

Those who are inclined to art, can find no more opportune 
coast than this for the pencil and pen. Almost every variety of 
inland and coast scenery can be laid upon for tribute, and a port- 
folio of sketches can be brought home for evidence of a profitable 
summer. Then, collecting shells or sea-weeds will repay the time 
given to it, if in no other way than in rosy cheeks, and the tire 
that follows healthy recreation. Sea-weeds if gathered for collec- 
tions should be dipped in fresh water and all sand removed ; then 
laid upon sheets of white paper, arranged carefully with a knitting 
needle, and pressed for several days between folds of newspapers 
under a weight. When dry they are best arranged on cardboard, 
and sometimes effectively grouped about a small basket. There 
is much pleasureable excitement in this for young folks. In 
gathering shells, they should be carefully collated ; their proper 
names written on labels and pasted upon them, with the date 
and locality of the find. Some of the popular works on conchology 
will supply information, and serve to accumulate in the collector's 
mind a small storehouse of happy facts. 



The Coast Climate. 



THIS little message from the sea would not be complete were 
there omitted a few words concerning the climate on the 
Jersey coast. Atlantic City, which was the first winter sani- 
tarium on the Atlantic coast, especially has won honorable 
distinction in this regard — so much so, in fact, that the claim is 
sometimes made that any form of disease can be cured by her 
health-giving air. On account of the propinquity of the Gulf 
Stream at this point on the coast, the configuration of the coast 
itself, and the topographical lineaments of the land, the absence 
of adjacent mountain ranges, Atlantic City enjoys at all times a 
most equable and gentle climate. Its winters are as mild as those 
of Charleston ; its summers are never as warm as in New York or 
Boston. Climate is intimately associated with the health, wealth, 
occupation, and longevity of nations, and equally, though with more 
appreciable directness, with those of individuals. Dryness, equable- 
ness, purity, and moderation are peculiarly desirable features in a 
climate for health, and when these are found on the sea-shore, the 
remedial powers of the atmosphere are most marked. The tonic 
effects of sea air are summarized thus by Schonbein : — 

First, the presence of a large amount of ozone, the stimulating, 
vitalizing principle of the atmosphere ; second, the atmosphere, 



45 

being denser at the sea level than at more elevated points, contains 
in a given space a larger amount of oxygen ; third, as a larger 
portion of the breeze comes from the sea, the air contains but a small 
amount of the deleterious products of decaying vegetable and animal 
matter ; and, fourth, the saline particles held in suspension in the 
atmosphere, the "dust of the ocean," enter the system through the 
lungs, and aid in the tonic effect experienced by the invalid or de- 
pressed system. 

For these reasons, which can be observed to operate directly at 
Atlantic City, which has been utilized for winter patients for the past 
fifteen years, that place has become a winter sanitary resort of ex- 
ceeding popularity, as well as a delightful summer city. A synopsis 
of the Jersey coast climate, as furnished by the Government Signal 
Service officers, furnishes sound evidence in support of such asser- 
tions. 



RELATIVE HUMIDITY AT 



i88i. 


Atlantic City. 


Baltimore. 


Washington. 


Cape May. 


Philadelphia 


January, . . 


. 76.8 


71.5 


77-6 


78.7 


77.1 


February, . 


• 83.8 


66.7 


734 


73-2 


74-3 


March, . . 


• 74-6 


63.2 


67-3 


70-3 


72.8 


April, . . . 


• 73-6 


58.9 


66.0 


74.0 


61.3 


May, . . . 


• 85.2 


64-3 


69-3 


82.7 


70.6 


June, . . . 


• 79-8 


68.1 


72.8 


76.8 


70.4 


July, .... 


. 78.8 


61.3 


67. 8 


73-6 


66.8 


August, . . 


. 82.7 


61. 1 


70.0 


77-5 


66.1 


September, 


• 85.6 


69-3 


74.0 


79.8 


71.2 


October, . . 


■ 79-5 


67.1 


734 


70.6 


70.2 


November, 


. 7S.1 


67.8 


744 


77.0 


72.4 


December, . 


• 794 


70.6 


76.6 


75-6 


77-5 


1882. 












January, . . 


75-5 


72.6 


80.8 


77.2 


79-3 


February, . 


■ 78.5 


66.8 


72.6 


73-6 


70.7 


March, . . 


73-5 


64.0 


69-3 


70.7 


63.6 


April, . . . 


■ 74-5 


60.9 


68.1 


744 


60.5 


May, . . . 


80.4 


69.1 


70.9 


78.6 


68.2 


June, . . . 


• 77-2 


60.3 


64-5 


76.4 


60.2 


July,. . . . 


• 79-9 


654 


67.1 


79.8 


61.9 


August, . . 


• 82.3 


744 


7S.2 


79-3 


71.0 


September, 


82.6 


74.6 


77.2 


78.8 


73-0 


October, . . 


84.2 


75-2 


78.0 


78.6 


74-3 



•3SUT3-VI UC3J\[ 



'ISOAVOq 



OS rO IT) UOGO " LO O 00 GO lO t^ 

<d 6 <xi lyj ro 1-^ uo uo ^ d r^ i-i 



•IsaqSiH 



•aSui:^ UB3i\[ 



•lS3A\oq 



•^saqgiH 



VO VO ID Os^O lO-^ lO ID t-^VO ro 



M CN ^ lOvO ID UO ro O) M 



MVO OsO <-oa\^Os>-i^ 



lO t^ rO O ro 



U 



•aSuB^ UB3I/y[ 

•;s3Avoq 
•IsaqSiH 



•aSUB^ UE3IY 



•;s3A\oq 



•jsaqSiH 



•aSUB^ UB3I\[ 

•:iS3A\oq 



VOCO M roo r~-Tl-Ti-O00 lOt^ 



N in r<ovo t-o po -"t cs 



t~~ ro lO^O 



rovo t^vo \OCOVO 0\CM-i i-'OO 



T)Tt•O^T^lOM\O00 1-1 0\M M 
•>d->0 lOOO OnOOnOnOOO t^t^ 



vo tM w o PJ r^ cs r^\o (s cxd o 






. •'J-MOOOOOOOM-iOi 



■^r^-*-^ Mt^o\ioio 



lO o^UD PI M 




t^POONO -"tovo OsO lO 



CN CN CN rOlOlOlO"*- 



<;c/iO^Q 



O C\ "S- r^ M 'O ro\0 " O) 



O 6 i-i ^ CO O uSvd 00 Os 
CN 01 c^ romuOiO'^rO 



"Or^iO Noouor^ CO 
cc ch tn t-i oi >o' >-^ uo id ro 

U-, lOvO t^OO 00 OnOO 00 t^ 



-^ ' -'S— " - - 1 r •" 1 r - 



47 

This is quite a remarkable record. The diseases most benefited 
by such a cHmate are nervous affections. Every phase of nervous 
exhaustion, from the jaded temperaments of society people, over- 
worked men and women, to brain softening and paralysis, is bene- 
fited. Then the long- list of chronic affections which result secondarily 
from nervous exhaustion ; then patients suffering from pulmonary, 
bronchial, and laryngeal complaints, most of whom are benefited! 
Trying and refractory cases of chronic bronchitis, laryngitis, and in- 
cipient consumption, are often much improved by being treated at 
the sea. In cases of dyspepsia, worry, and general relaxation of the 
system, a fortnight at Atlantic City can be prescribed with certain 
benefit ; as the indolent life at the shore, the change of scene and 
food, the tonic, pure air, and the sunshine work sure benefit. 

Just here a word is proper as to diet. " It is safe," says a noted 
physician, "to counsel all invalids to restrain the prodigious appetite 
they are almost sure to acquire soon after coming. Otherwise con- 
stipation, headaches, and loss of appetite eventually result, showing 
that an overloaded stomach and embarrassed liver have struck work. 
It is a mistake to suppose that one cannot take cold at the sea-shore. 
It is necessary, then, that invalids should take the usual precautions 
against being chilled. In the winter season and on summer evenings 
wraps of some kind are always in order out of doors, though usually 
they need not be heavy. 

"As to exercise, while some is needed by the weakest invalids, 
even though only of a passive kind, such as massage by a manipu- 
lator, or rubbing by an ordinary attendant after the bath, there is 
commonly little danger that those able to walk shall not get enough. 
Many are inclined to take too much, owing to the extraordinary 
stimulant effects of the air, and need to be restrained, lest they ex- 
haust their small stock of vitality as fast as it can be replenished. 
But this tendency is far less in winter than in summer, when the 
nightly hops and other multitudinous pleasures and dissipations keep 
the more impressionable visitors in a constant whirl of feverish ex- 
citement. 

" One word, finall}^, as to medicinal treatment. For some cases 
the air alone is sufficient. Others get on famously with the air and 
the help of judicious bathing. Still others need medicines, and lose 



48 

by having them stopped during their stay at the sea-shore. For these 
last, the tonic and alterative virtues of the air often furnish just the 
adjuvants necessary to accompHsh the cure. The medicines which 
at home were nugatory, or only half successful, may succeed perfectly 
with the aid of the sea air, when neither alone would be sufficient." 

The hot salt baths obtainable in winter time are most valuable 
agents of cure, and may be indulged in without the least danger. 

The first effect of the sea air upon visitors, remarks Doctor 
John H. Packard, is very much the same in winter as in summer. 
The same sense of invigoration, of increased appetite, and of drowsi- 
ness, are experienced by almost every one. Persons who before 
leaving home felt constantly wearied, with a distaste for food, and 
with an inability to sleep well, whether from fatigue, from over- 
excitement by business or by pleasure, or from the effects of illness, 
will often find themselves enjoying a walk, eating heartily, and ready 
for bed at an early hour. It is well in many instances to give a 
caution as to overdoing the exercise, as well as in regard to the 
indulgence of the appetite. The matter of sleep may generally 
be left to nature. 

Upon the functions of the bowels the sea air in winter often 
has a restraining effect, inducing constipation, which may be very 
obstinate. This is owing generally to the stimulation of the skin, 
and if diet does not suffice to overcome it, it should be corrected 
with mineral waters, such as Hunyadi, Vichy, or Congress, But 
as these are less applicable in cold weather than in warm, a com- 
pound rhubarb pill, or the compound licorice powder, will be found 
to answer better. Diarrhoea is much less frequently met with-, and 
may be checked in most cases by limitation of diet for a day or 
two. Should either of these conditions be the result of previous 
disease, special treatment may be called for, such as medical 
counsel shall indicate. Other troubles incident to a change to the 
sea-shore, than those mentioned, had better be met by a doctor's 
advice. 



The Art of Traveling. 



BE sure to think before you start to travel. It has been ren- 
dered so much a matter of course, and so simple a thing to 
do, that repeating the old hints about it seems superfluous. 
Yet, just as it is necessary to repeat from every pulpit the 
old admonitions with each new year, so it is proper here to call 
the attention of the unthinking voyageur to some "points" that, if 
remembered, will save him much inconvenience. For your own 
comfort and happiness, and your own mental and physical advantage, 
start on your journey with a determination to see the bright side of 
everything, and to endure, as cheerfully as possible, the jolts and 
buffetings, and petty disappointments, that are sure to be your lot. 
In the same proportion that a light heart makes you better for your- 
self, it makes you better and more agreeable for those who may 
be traveling with you. This by way of suggestion for the comfort 
of your inner self. Now as to your contact with the world. 

Money. — Never carry a large amount of cash about your person 
or in your baggage. If you carry money, avail yourself of hotel 
safes for it and for valuable jewels. Be careful to have sufficient 
small change, and be prepared to pay all obligations, especially the 
smallest, in their exact amount. If you cannot tender a cabman or 
servant the exact sum, you will generally overpay. They never have 
change. 

Tickets. — Never buy your tickets for ajiything from strangers 
in the streets, or from "scalpers," or at "reduced-fare" offices. 
Such tickets may be good, but the probabilities are not in their 



50 



favor ; while there never can be a doubt about tickets purchased at 
the regular offices of the railroad company. If intending to travel in 
Pullman cars or by the Pennsylvania " Limited Express " train, 
secure your tickets, seats, or berths at least three days ahead. When 
purchasing your tickets, obtain all information you desire, as to limi- 
tations of the tickets, arrival of trains, connections, time, &c. 

Baggage. — Have as little bag- 
gage as the circumstances will justify. 
The quantity of underclothing will, of 
course, depend upon personal habits. 
It should never be less than to cause 
n(j inconvenience in a week's absence 
-■-. from a laundress. Never omit 
opportunity of having wash- 
done. In trusting your bag- 
gage to the transfer com- 
pany, be sure and under- 
stand from the agent 
that it will be delivered 
in time for the train you 
expect to take. 

Meals. — It is a good 
rule for a traveler never 
^' to miss the opportunity 
fJ/, of taking a meal. You 
may not feel hungry 
when the eating station 
is reached, but if you 
decline your chance, you 
may be faint with hun- 
ger before you come to 
^'another. On long jour- 
"'"-"■■^ neys carry a lunch basket. When travel- 

ing, or when residing at strange hotels, if you have any reason to 
doubt the purity of the drinking water, drink a mineral water, which 
v/ill at least be pure. 




51 

Rights.— Respect the rights of other travelers, and by so doing 
you will lead them to respect yours. If you find yourself imposed 
upon by any official or employe of the railway, state your views firmly 
but quietly. If he declines to redress the wrong, ask him to call his 
superior. If the latter be inaccessible, ask for his address, and you are 
quite sure to have the cause of complaint removed. At all times be 
courteous and patient. The railroad company is invariably anxious 
to forward your interests. 




Itinerary of the Sttminer Vacation. — i88j. 



Upon these pages it is suggested to the reader, as being both profitable and 
full of interest in coming years, to note down the details of the hoUday journey, 
with such comments as will prove guide-boards for the future, as well as mile- 
stones of the past. 

THE ROUTE. 

From 



To 



TIIME OCCUPIED IX THE JOURNEY 



53 

EXPENSE ACCOUNT. 



Dolls. 



Cts. 



TICKETS, Railroad, . . 
" Sleeping Car, 

Parlor 



MEALS. 
Breakfasts, . 
Lunches, . . 
Dinners, . . 
Suppers, . . 



BAGGAGE, 

FEES, 

READING, 

HOTELS, 

MISCELLANEOUS, .... 
TOTAL EXPENSE, 



54 

INCIDENTS OF THE RAILWAY TRIP. 



OCCUPATIONS AT THE SHORE. 



55 

MEMORANDA FOR 1884. 



LofC. 



Hints to Bathers, 



ENTER THE WATER WHEN THE BODY IS COMFORTABLY WARM; EXERCISE 
ACTIVELY DURING YOUR STAY IN THE WATER. If AIR AND WATER ARE 
BOTH COLD, SHORTEN THE TIME OF THE BATH. If LIPS OR FINGER NAILS 

become blue, leave the water a t once. children should bathe 
from two to fifteen minutes, according to their condition of health. 
Never force a child into the water ; the fright costs more than the 

BATH effects. A SHORT, SHARP RUN ON LEAVING THE WATER WILL AID THE 
GOOD EFFECT OF THE BATH. ALWAYS WASH THE SALT FROM THE HAIR. 

Mid-day is the BEST time to bathe for health ; but any time will 
DO except just after a meal. Flannel makes the best bathing suit. 
Move into the water quickly and far enough out to dip the person, 
HEAD and all. Once in and honestly wet, keep moving. Before 
dressing, rub the skin thoroughly with rough towels. If convenient, 
eat a slight lunch after the bath. Children may generally bathe 
every day without harm. If suffering from illness or disease, do not 
bathe without the advice of a physician. 

It is not safe to swim in a heavy surf when the tide is running out, 
OR when there are strong currents running in the general line of the 
shore. When holes are known to exist, ALWAYS b.a.the in company. 
For most people once a day is quite often enough to be in the water. 
Avoid bathing by moonlight, except in company. 



